A Sky of Diamonds
by potatopeeling
Summary: Christmas Eve in Smallville involves snow that Kon still isn't quite used to. Tim helps him cope with teasing and a snowball fight. Tim/Kon.


They have a system. They spend Christmas Eve at the Kents' house and Christmas with their families. At first, they had wanted to alternate Christmas Eves, but even at the best of times, the Wayne manor wasn't particularly warm and fuzzy. So they had settled on Tim bringing over a bunch of Alfred's cooking with his gift for Kon when he visited. This year, while Tim is helping with the dishes, Kon sneaks out. Tim notices, waits an appropriate amount of time, and excuses himself.

He finds him where the corn used to be, white snow swirling around him and dry stalks sticking up between his boots. The darkness of the night is all around him, not like in Gotham where it bleeds into every crack; here, it's like everything is black and it's the moon that gives it pale color. Tim takes a moment just to appreciate it, pretending he's still waiting for his eyes to adjust enough to locate Kon. He knows it's probably failed when he sees Kon's head turn just slightly in his direction, eyes flicking over to look at him, before he returns to gazing up at the sky. With a disregard for stealth, Tim stomps his way through the inches of snow over to him. He's freezing by the time he reaches him.

"You know, no matter how many Smallville winters I have, I can never get used to this stuff," Kon says with a slight smile. He's still not looking at him, so with one last studying glance, Tim tilts up his head and lets the snow fall into his eyes.

"You could always fly south for the winter," he replies and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kon's smile grow.

"I'm not the bird here," Kon says, then seems to consider it. "But I _do_ have some free time between Christmas and New Year's..." Tim gives him a half-smirk.

"Yeah? And where would you stay? Hotels in Hawaii are expensive this time of year."

"Well, I seem to recall having this filthy rich friend," he muses. "But he's kind of stuck-up, so I doubt he'd go for it."

"Oh really?" Tim is tempted to smash that grin with a nice fast snowball, but he's not wearing any gloves.

"Really. Hard to believe, right? What kind of guy would turn down a trip to Hawaii with his best bud?" Brushing the snow-laden hair out of his eyes is definitely not a way to cover his smile, Tim tells himself. It was getting heavy. He swears.

"I can't imagine it, Conner. Maybe if you asked, he would surprise you."

When Kon answers that with "Yeah, I'll call Dick tomorrow," he doesn't bother resisting the urge to snowball him in the face. There's something priceless about the way Kon looks at him when he lands the hit, like he wasn't expecting it. Then he starts laughing and Tim has about three seconds to process it before he's hit in the stomach with what he can only assume is a superspeed-produced snowball.

As he raises himself off the ground, he forms another ball. "Trying to out-sneak a bat, huh?" He smirks. His next hit misses, but he was expecting that, so the one he throws while Kon is dodging hits him right in the crotch. Alright, it's a cheap shot, he admits, but he's still trying to stand up _and_ the back of his pants is wet now.

"Dude, that was just low, impregnable force field aside," Kon manages to look scandalized. It leads to an all-out snow war between them for the next ten minutes, before they decide they've sparred against each other enough to make it a waste of energy. Kon thinks so, anyway; Tim is barely breathing hard. With a truce, they collapse on their backs on the ground, the wet of the snow seeping into their jackets and hair.

"Definitely had too much of Ma's cooking at dinner," Kon groans, holding his stomach, and Tim laughs softly.

"Were you serious?" he asks.

"Nah, there can never be too much of her food," Kon replies before looking at him. Tim stays silent, holding his breath as he sees his question register on Kon's face. "Oh, Hawaii. Yeah, I was serious." Tim lets out his breath and Kon backpedals. "I mean, uh, if you want to. You don't have to come with, you know-"

"No," Tim cuts him off. "I'd like that," he smiles over at him, cheek burning against the snow as he turns his head. Kon grins back and the flash of his teeth complements the pale white around them. Tim looks back up at the sky, the snow floating down like diamonds in the moonlight.

He feels Kon moving before he sees him, his head hovering over Tim's. His face is obscured by the dark and encircled by the flurry of white above them. Unconsciously, Tim tilts his chin up and Kon leans down. Kon's lips are shockingly warm against his and before he can help it, Tim thinks he must feel like a icicle. He must be right because Kon stops kissing him long enough to huff a warm breath over his lips. Then, he shifts to suck Tim's bottom lip into his mouth and the sudden heat makes him gasp. As Tim reaches up to grasp Kon's wet hair with numb fingers, Kon continues sucking. It's ridiculously hot, both literally and sexually, he thinks. The warmth of Kon's head is burning his fingers, in a good way, so he brings his other hand up to touch his neck. Kon shivers a bit and releases his lip, and Tim's about to growl in annoyance before Kon moves to lick just under his ear. This time, Tim's the one who shivers as Kon mouths at his earlobe and swirls his tongue around it.

Abruptly, Kon breaks away and stands, holding a hand out to help Tim up. "Ma's sending Clark out to check on us," he explains, clearing up his confusion. Tim takes his hand and rises, shaking the melted snow out of his hair.

"That would be just a little awkward," he says with a small smile. "Let's save him the trouble and head back."

"Yeah," Kon agrees, slinging an arm around his shoulders as they start to walk. "We seriously need to get you some clip-on mittens for that coat because dude, your hands are _freezing_." Tim punches him in the gut, lightly.

"I am _not_ wearing clip-on mittens."


End file.
